The Five Times Tony Got Back Up - And The One Time He Didn't
by Stephanie2233
Summary: <html><head></head>Just as the title says. Told through the eyes of McGee, Tony does his best to use up his remaining nine lives. McGee comes to count on the fact that Tony will always bounce up, until he doesn't. No pairings, just McNozzo friendship. Not a death fic!</html>
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Hello! So sorry for the long hiatus - I'm back with a different story, but don't worry, I have not forgotten about adding tags to "When He Bled Scarlet and Gray". Still looking for inspiration on that, but maybe this will get me going. _

_So this is (obviously) a "Five Times" fic - it will consist of a prologue and 6 one-shots; however, they will show a progression in the Tony/McGee relationship, and I may reference previous one-shots. Other than that, they can stand alone. The first one shot is close to being finished and I will write the other chapters whenever I have time. Usually I don't post until I have finished a story, but as these are really just a collection of one-shots, I decided to go ahead and do it since I won't be leaving you with any cliffhangers._

_This is told through the eyes of McGee, but, as the title indicates, it concentrates on Tony - or more, McGee's relationship with Tony. There is no character-bashing, no pairings, and it's not a death fic. Also, none of these events happened in canon, but other than that, I try to remain in character and consistent with the show._

_This is un-betaed, so all mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoy!_

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><p>Prologue<p>

Anyone who had known Timothy McGee as a child would never have guessed "federal agent" as one of his career options.

It wasn't for any lack of perceived bravery or strength. In fact, despite Tim's shy demeanor, those that took the time to get to know him over the years knew well that it took a lot of heart and courage to stand up to those that had doubted him.

But it was also always abundantly clear to those who knew him well that Tim was a peaceful child. He solved problems with words, not violence. He always made sure to think before he spoke his mind. He cared deeply about the well-being of his friends and family.

He wasn't a "tough-guy" by any means – he was shocked by harsh words or hostile situations. He was deeply affected by the suffering of his loved ones – and deeply troubled by the harsher realities of the world. It wasn't that he was weak, or too innocent to face the "real world". No, Timothy McGee just cared – sometimes too deeply for his own good.

It was this sentiment that led him to NCIS in the first place. He could use his computer skills to solve crimes, to assess terrorist threats, even to prevent tragedies from happening. He began as a low-level computer geek at Norfolk, mostly doing administrative IT work, but occasionally getting called in for a consult on actual cases that needed a little MIT-magic.

It was probably the lowest paying job he could have accepted with his qualifications, but for once, he felt enriched. Like he was making a difference. Even if it was just streamlining the work of the "real agents".

When he'd gotten called into consult for the famed 'MCRT' it had been a dream come true. He'd been eager to prove himself and make an impression on his new temporary teammates.

First, there was Special Agent Gibbs, the ex-marine gunnery sergeant with the legendary temper. McGee had heard the stories. It was rare that an agent lasted longer than two weeks with him. The former sniper was an extremely capable agent, with the highest solve-rate in NCIS history, but also a bastard that worked his agents into the ground and rarely said a word unless it was to tear into an underling. He'd heard rumors that he only still had a job because he had dirt on the Director, but McGee was too smart to believe those – most of the time.

Then there was former Secret Service Agent Caitlin Todd, who'd been hand-picked to protect the President, and also hand-picked for Gibbs' team. She had an analytical mind and a sharp tongue, not to mention a great shot. An expert profiler, she was able to read people easily, giving her an insider look into the minds of the criminals they chased.

And finally, there was Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, former Baltimore Homicide Detective, and Gibbs' right hand man. He was a legend among the FLETC classes just for the fact that he'd survived being on Gibbs' team for over two years. But it wasn't just that he had survived – he'd excelled. In fact, rumor had it that Gibbs was so protective of his second-in-command that he'd knocked out the last agent who'd tried to recruit DiNozzo for his team. Apparently Agent Fornell was allowed to have his wife, but not his agent.

Tim had desperately wanted to be a part of this elite team of agents, and he made the most of his first case with them, coming through with his computer skills every time he was called upon. Apparently someone had been impressed, as he was asked to come back again…and again.

McGee's primary weapon was his keyboard, but he'd also scored well in his FLETC classes, and he knew he could handle a gun. The problem was, he was green - really green. He had absolutely no experience in the field, so when he was called upon to leave the office and accompany an agent in the field, he felt out of his element and surprisingly inadequate.

It didn't help that Agent DiNozzo seemed to always be there to watch – and comment on – his every move. Of course he wanted to impress Gibbs, since he had the ultimate decision in whether or not he might become the fourth member of the MCRT, but for some reason, he also wanted DiNozzo's approval.

Tony was everything he'd wanted to be. He was confident, he was charming, and he was good at his job. He was a sharp investigator and he had the street smarts to get out of the stickiest situations. McGee couldn't even count all of the times in which Tony had smoothly talked his way into or out of something. He had a carelessness about him that McGee would kill for – he was so confident he was doing the right thing, it was as if he never had to think about the consequences.

He'd also heard stories about Tony. About his misadventures with Gibbs. About how he'd saved Gibbs and how Gibbs had saved him. About how, as a two man team, they'd taken down murderers and terrorists, and saved dozens of lives. About Tony's propensity for getting into trouble – and then getting out of it. Word around the yard was that Tony had nine lives, and with Gibbs, he'd already used up almost half of them. But he always came out of it alive - banged up - but alive.

So while Gibbs was the gruff, enigmatic, but distant leader, Tony was the agent that McGee had always dreamed he'd grow up to be like. The suave but dangerous character that threw himself in danger to save lives, and somehow always got the girl. McGee had hoped to learn as much as he could from his experiences with DiNozzo.

The problem was, Tony didn't act like the hero he'd heard so much about. He was the class clown, the guy that never took his work seriously, the guy that never minded his own business, the guy that teased him on a daily basis, the guy that purposefully baited his boss, just to get a headslap. It was hard for McGee to see how the goofball in the squadroom was the same guy he'd heard the stories about.

The man that glued his fingers to his keyboard was also the man who had thrown himself in front of a bullet for his boss?

The man that bombarded them with movie trivia was also the man that had thrown himself into an explosion to protect a little girl?

The man that teased him every day was also the man that ran toward the danger, not away from it?

It didn't make sense. But with DiNozzo, it hardly ever did.

So far on the job, McGee hadn't experienced a situation even close to the ones he'd heard about. He'd also never seen Anthony DiNozzo at any less than 100%. He was always poised and composed, in an expensive suit, with an impish grin on his face. He couldn't even imagine a scenario in which Tony didn't bounce back up with a quick comeback, looking no worse for wear than a few wrinkles in his perfect suit.

He honestly thought he'd never be able to reconcile the two Tony's, and he was content to have it that way. McGee would continue to see Tony as the capable but annoying agent that was always goofing off, and he would leave the other Tony – the one that had been blown up and shot and who knows what else – to the gossips and the FLETC trainees.

It was easier that way.

But, little did Special Agent Timothy McGee know, in the following years, he would come to witness the Tony he'd heard so many stories about. He would be there to watch Tony use up the rest of his remaining nine lives. And he would come to count on the fact that when Tony went down, he always found a way back up – until the one time he didn't.

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><p><em>Hope you liked! This is just the Prologue. Chapter 1 should be up on the weekend at the latest. Reviews are welcome and appreciated, I would love to hear your thoughts!<em>

_Peas,_

_Stephanie_


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Hi everyone! Thank you for all of the reviews of the first chapter - I'm glad you like it so far! I do want to clarify one thing, the title will refer to the 5 times Tony got up *right away* - as in, under his own power, right after he goes down. The one time he didn't will be the one time the injury is very serious, but yes, Tony will definitely survive :)_

_This chapter takes place 5 months into McGee's first year at NCIS. He will grow throughout the series to become less probie-like, but please do take into account that the nerves and second guessing happen because of his inexperience, and that he will become more confident later on. I initially had McGee even more involved in the take down when I remembered that his first "kill" doesn't come until the episode Probie in season 3, so I had to do a bit of a re-write to stay canon. _

_This is not beta read, all mistakes are mine. Sorry if there are small procedural errors, I'm not up on police procedure, but I tried to make it believable :) Hope you enjoy!_

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

The sound of gunfire was overwhelming. Probationary Agent Timothy McGee clutched his firearm, crouching behind a large stack of old crates that were holding up surprisingly well under fire. His mind – acting like a computer – raced through the protocol for this type of situation. In theory he knew exactly what to do, but it was entirely different in the field, when a slight misstep could mean a bullet through the brain.

It was his fifth month on the job. He'd been an agent for almost half a year. Longer than his father predicted…

"_An Agent, son? All the math and computers in the world won't help you on the front lines, boy. In a month you'll be back at a desk job, isolating yourself again with all your formulas and algorithms. Why waste the Navy's time?"_

McGee shook himself out of the memory. He was on the front lines now, and while he tried not to give his father's opinions too much credence, the Admiral was right about one thing: his computers couldn't help him now.

There was a momentary lapse in the gunfire, probably so that the perps could reload. Tim took the respite as an opportunity to take stock. First, his phone – _still _no service. Perfect. But, on the bright side, as far as he could tell, there were no unwanted holes in his body and all of his limbs were still intact, albeit trembling slightly

A quick, dark motion to the right of him made the young agent jump, carefully aiming his SIG at the possible threat.

"Tony!" He gasped, lowering his weapon upon recognizing his teammate, momentarily overcome by the shock of his quick entrance.

"Probie! It's your first firefight!" Tony whispered as he skidded into Tim's hiding place, landing on one knee, while reloading his own magazine.

As McGee watched his partner's eyes dart around, assessing their situation, he was surprised at the enormous feeling of relief that swept through him. Tony may be his tormentor, but he was also Gibbs' right hand man, and if even half the stories he had heard were true, a master at getting out of sticky situations intact.

He still had yet to see the Tony who was the subject of all those stories – the ex-homicide detective that busted cases wide open and met danger head-on, like some character out of an action movie. He was much more used to the guy who quoted those characters, often much to his annoyance.

However, despite all of Tony's antics in the squadroom, Tim knew he was an extremely capable agent – and exactly the kind of guy he wanted with him on his first firefight.

"Is that some sort of NCIS milestone?" he managed to reply, as the bullets began to rain down again.

"Not officially," Tony responded as he swiveled his body around to face him. "It's not something we like to do a lot here at NCIS."

"That's a relief," McGee quipped, wondering why he was suddenly able to act so cool in a situation like this.

Tony was about to respond when his eyes darkened, narrowing in on something behind him. A shot rang out, and a bullet whipped past McGee's head. In a flash, the Tony was up and firing, dropping one of the suspects with an efficient double tap to the chest.

"Whew, they're closing in, Probie. I'm not letting your first firefight end like mine did," Tony said flippantly, as if he hadn't just saved McGee's life.

McGee just stared. _How exactly had Tony's first firefight ended?_

This was certainly a different Tony from the one he was used to. Tony was the guy who hardly looked like he did any work, and yet still somehow came up with the answers Gibbs needed. He was the guy who compared cases to movies to come up with motives or means. He was the guy who threw a rock through a window to get into a suspect's house.

It wasn't that Tim thought he wasn't a good investigator – in fact, it was clear that it was these very unconventional methods that made him so effective – it was that, in all of the hours Tim had spent with Tony, he'd never seen him acting serious…about anything. But here, when the bullets were flying and lives were on the line, it was clear that Tony was all business.

Not on the outside. No, he had the same grin, the same easy-going demeanor, but there was a dangerous focus to him too, something in his eyes and in his tone that told McGee he was determined to get them out alive.

Tim wondered if the outward display was just to keep him at ease. In fact, he wondered exactly how much of Tony's external clownish behavior was just a disguise…

"Tim, you okay?" Tony's words broke through his thoughts. "You weren't hit, were you?"

"No, I'm fine," McGee quickly shook himself out of it, a little alarmed that Tony had used his first name. "Just trying to figure out how we're getting out of here."

Tony nodded. "Well, now that Baldy's out of the picture, it's two on two, odds are tipping in our favor; so, maybe they're ready to surrender now." He started to straighten, but McGee grabbed him.

"Tony! There were five of them when we first came in here! It's more like four to two, and they have automatic weapons!" McGee hissed, a little panicked as the odds and numbers started coming back to him. _Maybe his father was partially right…_

"Chillax, McGee. What do you think I was doing over there while our newest acquaintances were trying to blow your head off? These guys aren't exactly pros, you know. I mean, sure, they've got the firepower, but they took up a pretty poor defensive position. I was able to pick off two of them while they all concentrated on you. That's some nice work, McDistraction," he patted McGee on the back, smiling.

McGee gaped. He'd figured they'd both been pinned down. They'd had to separate quickly when they'd entered the supposedly empty warehouse, diving out of the way of the automatic rounds of the trigger-happy suspects. He'd only known that Tony was fine from the agent's unsuccessful attempts to talk the shooters out of a messy gunfight. Apparently, their perps didn't know what NCIS was, and they were far more inclined to shoot than to surrender peacefully, especially when they had the numbers on their side.

So, McGee had been holding his position hoping that maybe Tony had found a way to contact Gibbs and send in the cavalry. It had never occurred to him that they might actually overpower the suspects just the two of them. Come to think of it, the gunfire had let up somewhat, maybe they would gain the upper hand…

"Hey! Guys!" Tony called loudly in the direction of the shooters. "Can we stop with the gunfire already? We're federal agents, I'm telling ya, you don't want to mess with us – ask your three buddies, it's best for everyone if you just surrender now!"

A bullet whipped past Tony's head.

"This is NCIS, you aren't getting out of this! Surrender your weapons!" McGee yelled, suddenly confident they could do this.

Another bullet, this time barely missing McGee.

"Well, Probie, I guess it's up to you and me," Tony said, turning towards him.

McGee couldn't help but grin. This was what he'd envisioned himself doing, and this is what he'd joined NCIS for. He was part of a team, and he and his partner were going to bring these guys down – together.

"I've got your six, Tony," he said, giving his partner a determined nod.

Tony grinned. "I know you do. Now, I've got a plan – it involves running, so please tell me you didn't have those cheese fries for lunch like last week."

Tim couldn't help but roll his eyes. Back to old Tony, just like that. But for some reason, this time, he didn't mind it. "No, I had a salad, Tony. Now what's the plan?"

Tony made a face, presumably at the thought of "eating like a rabbit", but then his expression turned serious.

"Ok, we don't have enough ammo to keep up like this. According to the blueprints, there's a side door, about 25 yards to your left. When I say go, I'll provide cover fire and you run like hell. Once you're out, get in the car, and find some civilization, or at least somewhere where you have service, and call Gibbs."

"_That's_ your plan?" McGee said incredulously. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine. These crates have held up this long, they'll hold up a little longer."

"And if they decide to advance their position?"

"They already tried. You saw how well that worked for them."

"And what if they come from both sides, Tony?" McGee challenged. He may be the probie on the team, but he wasn't going to just sit there and let Tony sacrifice himself for him.

"You have a better idea?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do," McGee swallowed. "You go. I stay here."

"Not gonna happen, McGee. Like it or not, I'm a better shot than you, and I have more experience with this stuff. I'm pulling rank. You're my responsibility and I'm not going back to Gibbs and telling him we have to train a new probie."

"So I'm supposed to tell Gibbs that I left a man behind? Tony, if these guys don't kill me, then he will!"

"No, Special Agent McGee. You are to tell Gibbs that you were following orders from a superior officer to call in backup to help take down a drug ring. Now, can I count on you, Special Agent McGee?"

Tim glared at Tony. Playing hero while he was ordered to flee the scene? What was Tony playing at?

But then it hit him. Tony wasn't playing at anything. There was steel in his eyes, he was wound tight. This wasn't Tony trying to one-up him in the squadroom, this was Tony protecting his team. This time it wasn't about garnering that elusive praise from their boss; no, it was a matter of life and death, and Tim knew that he had to trust that Tony, his senior field agent, was making the right call.

"Yes, Tony, you can count on me," McGee said, giving his partner a small nod.

"Good, Tim. I knew I could," Tony said, and McGee was almost taken aback at the amount of respect he saw shining in Tony's eyes.

"Oh, and McGee, none of that McGrandma driving. Channel your inner Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Tony quipped.

Tim rolled his eyes. "Got, it, DiNozzo," he grumbled, but he couldn't help but smile.

"Ok, ready?" Tony asked, and McGee nodded as Tony slipped his backup from his ankle, keeping it at the ready, and then carefully aimed his SIG. Tim made eye contact with his partner. He was ready. "One, two, three!" Tony whispered, and McGee ran.

It was all a blur; he didn't even hear the bullets he knew were flying all around him. His teammate had given him a mission and he was going to complete it.

Heart pounding, pulse racing, he saw the door. Within seconds, he grasped the handle, pulling it towards him and practically throwing his body through it. Bullets pinged off the door as he reached to pull it closed, and that's when he saw it.

One of the shooters had changed positions, probably to cut off his escape. It hadn't worked, but now, he had a perfect shot at Tony; his partner was a sitting duck.

McGee wrenched open the door, just in time to see twin muzzle flashes, and Tony, his partner, his friend, jerk and fall to the ground, motionless.

He didn't even remember reacting, his body seemed to act on its own, on reflex, as he drew his weapon and trained it on the body of the asshole who'd shot his partner. Tony's shot, however, hadn't missed its mark, and the shooter lay dead with a neat bullet hole in his temple.

"You got him, Tony," he whispered.

Tony. Oh my god, Tony. Shit! He couldn't think about that now, there was still an active shooter.

Advancing his position, McGee's eyes searched the warehouse for movement. It was eerily silent.

Then, he saw it, a dark figure emerging from behind a stack of barrels, clearly unaware that there was still a federal agent in the building.

"NCIS! Stop or I shoot!" McGee yelled, and even he was surprised by the deadly tone of his voice.

The figure froze. McGee could tell he was contemplating how quickly he could draw his weapon. "Don't even try it," McGee warned dangerously. "Now drop the weapon."

After another tense moment, the man conceded, dropping his automatic weapon down by his feet.

"Hands on your head. Move and I put a bullet through your brain," he threatened, closing in on the shooter quickly. He had to get to Tony.

Getting out his handcuffs, McGee jerked the suspect's hands behind his back, making sure he was uncomfortable.

"That hurt? Good. Your friend shot my partner," he growled, before reading him his Miranda Rights, trying to keep his voice steady. But his hands were starting to tremble and fear was starting to consume him. The tough agent that had just taken down the last shooter? He was disappearing, rapidly. And he was being replaced with a Timothy McGee that really wasn't welcome right now.

A pit began to form in his stomach as he yanked the remaining shooter to his feet, steering him toward where his teammate had fallen. He'd followed protocol, he'd secured the suspect, and now he had to check on his partner.

Tony. Was there any way he was even alive? How was he going to tell Gibbs that his second in command was gone? That he'd trusted him to watch his six and that he had failed?

Tony. The man who teased and ridiculed him on a regular basis, but also the man who taught him how to be an agent. He couldn't be gone, could he?

A tear traveled down his cheek.

This wasn't what was supposed to happen. He became an agent to save lives. The good guys weren't supposed to go down, the bad guys were.

Tony had disarmed him in their first five months of knowing each other. He had made Tim believe he was invincible, that nothing brought him down. He always had a comeback, always found a way to laugh. He never took the life and death that they dealt with everyday seriously. So how was McGee to think that anything serious could happen to him?

This couldn't be happening.

"Nice collar, McBadass."

Tim couldn't help it, he jumped, head shooting up in surprise at the sound of Tony's voice.

"Tony! You're…you're alive!" McGee stumbled over his words as he felt his knees start to buckle. Because there, emerging from behind their hiding spot, was none other than Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.

"Gotta love bulletproof vests," Tony explained, pulling aside his jacked to reveal the bullet lodged in his protection, directly over his heart. "Though uh, maybe we need to invest in helmets or something – I cracked my head on something on the way down and woke up to find my probationary agent disobeying a direct order."

Tim couldn't help it. A huge grin broke out on his face. He couldn't even comprehend the emotions he was experiencing. Seeing Tony go down like that, he didn't think he'd ever felt more scared or helpless in his life. But he'd risen to the occasion, secured the suspects, and then miraculously, Tony was back on his feet, as if the whole thing had been just a bad dream.

"Semper fidelis, Tony. I wasn't leaving you behind."

Tony tried to glare at him, but he was seriously failing. McGee could see the exact point when Tony realized that arguing the point would be futile. His face relaxed and he reached out a weak hand to grasp McGee's shoulder. "You did good, McGee."

"Thanks," McGee replied as they made a quick sweep of the warehouse to ensure that all of the shooters were indeed dead and it was safe to leave the scene to call backup. Then they both walked the car, their one remaining suspect still in tow. A long night of processing and paperwork awaited them.

Depositing the suspect in the back seat, Tim took the moment to collect his thoughts. He had made it. He wasn't at just some boring desk job, he was an NCIS special agent. But it wasn't something to be taken lightly.

He looked at Tony. His teammate's normally perfectly styled hair was sticking up all over the place. He had a cut near his hairline that was already swelling, blood still slowly oozing out and beginning to drip down his face. His jacket now unzipped, he could see the torn fabric where the bullet had ripped through, thankfully stopped by the vest.

Seeing that bullethole, the gravity of the situation hit him. Tony had almost died. He was not infallible, he was human. No matter how put together he always looked, not matter how blasé he acted when faced with danger, a little piece of metal could have ended his life.

McGee had finally seen the Tony DiNozzo that he'd heard about in all of those stories, and he wasn't sure if he liked it. It reminded him of their mortality, of the dangers they faced every day. Tony was normally immaculately dressed and well put-together, with a 100-watt grin on his face; seeing him in his present state, Tim was being hit with the realities of his chosen career.

"Something on my face, Probie?" Tony's voice broke through his thoughts. He looked up to see Tony peering at him over the roof of the car.

"Yeah, actually – blood," he replied, nodding towards the cut that was still bleeding sluggishly down Tony's temple.

He watched as Tony brought his hand up to his face, searching for the cut.

"Oh – yeah. I guess there is," he said, raising his hand in front of his face, but shrugging it off.

"You gonna get that looked at?" McGee asked, hoping Tony might choose the sensible option here.

"Nah. Not a big fan of doctors – don't tell Ducky that. I'll be fine, I've had worse."

"In your first firefight?" McGee couldn't help it, he was curious. Maybe it would help him understand DiNozzo better.

Tony turned to face him as they reached the vehicle, a small smirk on his face. If McGee didn't know any better, he would have thought Tony looked proud – and slightly amused – that his probie was pressing him. After regarding him for a moment, Tony finally spoke, "if I tell you this, you don't breathing a word of it to anyone, got it?"

"Got it," McGee promised, secretly happy that Tony was letting him in a little.

"Ok, I'm not proud of this," Tony warned dramatically. "It was a mess. I took one in the thigh. Apparently, here are some important arteries in there or something. I bled all over Gibbs, ruined his jacket. Talk about embarrassing. He made sure I heard about it for weeks; you'd think it was a Zegna piece or something. Anyways, it wasn't how I'd envisioned making my first impression on my new boss."

Inwardly, McGee grinned. Tony had once been a probie too. But he had to clear something up: "Tony, you know everyone in the Navy Yard knows that story, right?

"They do not!" Tony protested. "I never tell anyone that story!"

"Well apparently someone has been, because I've heard it about a dozen times. But Tony, you left out one big part," McGee teased.

"No I didn't!" Tony insisted.

McGee grinned wider. "Word around the Yard is that you passed out in Gibbs' arms and he had to carry you back to the car, bridal style."

One look at Tony's face was all McGee needed to confirm the story was indeed true.

"Abby," Tony growled. "That story better stop with you, McLooseLips, or so help me, you'll learn the real power of superglue."

The warning was playful, but McGee had no doubt Tony would carry it out. "It's too late, Tony," he reminded, "I told you, the whole Navy Yard already knows."

Tony's glare rivaled Gibbs'. "That may be, Probie. But if I _ever_ hear _anyone _speak of it again, I'm coming for you."

McGee's eyes widened. "Tony! That's an impossible demand! There's no way I can make everyone stop talking about it. You know how the FLETC trainees are!"

"You're right, it's an impossible demand," Tony nodded solemnly.

McGee could tell he was just playing with him now. "So, you won't take it out on me?" McGee hedged, just to make sure.

"No, I won't," Tony said with a smile that was just a little too big.

McGee's eyes narrowed. He couldn't tell what that smile meant, but he'd take it. He gave a small nod of appreciation at Tony. Pulling the keys out of his jacket, he went to open the car door.

"Or will I?"

McGee's head snapped up. Tony shot him a grin and then swiftly got into the car. "C'mon, McGee, we've got a scene to process."

McGee rolled his eyes and got in. He was pretty sure Tony was just joking anyways. Hopefully. Or maybe the office was already booby trapped and he would find his butt glued to his chair when he got back. He sighed. The Tony he was used to was definitely back - and oddly, he wouldn't have it any other way.

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><p><em>Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review if you like, they definitely help power me through writing :)<em>

_Peas,_

_Stephanie_


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